Perils of Living in the Woods

At least one of the perils of living in the woods is that of falling trees. Forget snakes, poison ivy, wild animals consuming your garden and livestock, nothing has to be addressed with more immediacy than a fallen tree on your storage shed or across your road. A few years ago, after one of the hurricanes pummeled the East Coast, heavy rains loosened the soil around the tree roots. One tree fell onto the shed and crushed the entire upper story. This led to two years of clean-up and rebuilding. Now that the rebuilding is finished and the cleanup is done, we’ve had to deal with more falling trees and it feels never-ending.

Sometimes falling trees can be a blessing. One year, when my husband was out of town, a tree fell across the road on the night before Mother’s Day. Most women I know don’t enjoy Mother’s Day services. First, mother’s day talks at church relay how angel single women raised ten children while holding down three jobs and still managing to be the perfect mother or it’s the speaker’s personal ramblings about how much they love their mother because she never missed their baseball game—either way, it either makes you feel guilty that you aren’t that mother or you’re irritated that your mother was a flesh and blood woman and not one of these super legends and you’re not at the point in your life where you can accept that your mom has (hard swallow-gulp) flaws. So, in my excitement of not having to attend that particular Mother’s Day meeting, I called my girlfriend to relay my good news. Unbeknownst to me, her elderly father overheard her side of the phone call. So, it was at five in the morning that I heard the sound of the chainsaw humming faintly outside the house. I threw on some clothes and jogged down the road to find my friend’s father, wearing his Sunday best protected by an apron cutting up the offensive tree so I could make it to church on time. How could I not go after that? So much for missing out on Mother’s Day—I tried.

Earlier this spring, we came home after working long hours to find two trees down across the road. This meant that even though we were tired, we weren’t going to go anywhere until the tree was moved. Last month, another tree fell across the road a few feet down from the original spot. Just this week, again another two trees fell across the road in a different spot. Each time this happens, we have to drop whatever we’re doing and concentrate all our efforts and energy into moving entire trees off the road. We drag out the chainsaws, chains and tractor and get to work. Sometimes it takes a few days to get it all done. But, on the positive side, we’ll have wood for the winter . . .

Take Care, ALL

Hey, if you’re planning to buy our “Unplug From the Grid,” ebook, wait a few weeks. We are revamping it, adding to it and doing some reformatting to make it better. However, “The Nearly Painless Guide to Rainwater Harvesting” ebook is ready to go and I think it can help those wanting to find ways to get water without drilling a well. We just uploaded “The Nearly Painless Guide to Food Storage” in May and it’s doing well. If you get a chance, I would love to hear what you think of it.

 

A Tale of Two Nurserywomen

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.” A Tale of Two Cities

Today, I worked on my herb garden. I had thrown a few potatoes into one little section since the soil was sitting unused and I had some sprouts. They seemed to really enjoy it there, so for now, I’ll let them stay. Since space is at such a premium around here, I can’t afford to be wasteful. I know I’m getting a late start on planting, but it can’t be helped. I have spent the past few months working on my food storage book and barely found time to take my dog for his daily walk. I knew I would be paying the price for my procrastination, but I had no idea it would be as bad as it was.

First off, by the time I visited the local nursery, my favorite nurseryman had sold it and moved north. The first clue that he was gone was the lack of plants. As I drove up, one car was in the lot. A woman on a cell phone was milling about with her phone glued to her ear. She could hardly be bothered with her only customer and when she finally lowered her phone (not hanging up) to ask us what we wanted, I realized I wasn’t going to have a good experience. Second, the scant amount of plants she did have were hideously mistreated. Yellowed leaves on some, and some pepper plants had ALL the leaves plucked off with only a small undeveloped pepper hanging off it. WOW—I couldn’t believe it, they’d removed every single one of the plant’s leaves. How was it supposed to nourish itself? Anyway, I left there, feeling as if this nursery woman, no, not nursery woman—just woman on the phone, had committed a heinous murder of vegetables—HOW DARE SHE!

We had to drive an extra ten miles to get to the second nursery.  As we rounded the corner, I could see the place filled with plants, compost heaps across the yard, and the nursery woman was actually happy to see us. No begging to ask prices. No feeling as though I was a rude interloper when asking about various plants. As I settled on my purchases, I was comfortable knowing that she had actually cared about producing great plants instead of just making a buck. This was evident in the quality of them, the courteous service and her knowledgeable suggestions. Although I didn’t get the exact plants I wanted because of my tardiness, I left meeting a fellow gardener—someone who took pride in their work and was interested in living a holistic and a purposeful life.

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.” A Tale of Two Cities

Take care, All—Hope you enjoyed the excursion into “A Tale of Two Cities,” one of my favorites.
If you’re interested in storing food, be sure to check out my new book. http://www.amazon.com/Nearly-Painless-Guide-Storage–Survival-Series-ebook/dp/B00KBCF5FC/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1402019915&sr=8-2&keywords=hillary+bergeron

It’s Maple Tapping Time!!!

First, let me say that a little preparation goes a long, long, long way. 

     Last year, we tapped anything that looked remotely like a maple tree.  The result was a funky mapley-tasting syrup that wasn’t half-bad, which made it only half-good.  Who knows what we were pouring onto our pancakes.  To repent of our wayward tapping habit, we went out into the woods last fall and searched for actual maple trees and then marked them with orange tape.  One tree had rows of woodpecker holes at several different heights.  I learned something important from this–if a bird likes it, it’s a good tree.  You wouldn’t believe how much sap flowed from it –it’s amazing!  It’s like a fountain of sugary wonder–my taste buds are crying with happiness as I type this.

     Last year, our spiels drained into open buckets subject to the elements and critters.  This year, we ordered 5 new spiels with hoses.  At first, I was annoyed that Bob wanted to do this.  I’m the cheapest person I know and I saw this as waste since we had 6 perfectly good spiels and our tapping operation was just fine.  I can see now the folly of my ways.  Instead of the sap water brimming with leaves, twigs, floating dead bugs, it is pure.  I should’ve gotten on board with this sooner since I am not a fan of proteins that are not cheese, eggs, chicken, beef or fish.  You guessed it, I’m never going to be that person that relishes the idea of fried grasshoppers or chocolate coated worms.

     So here are some facts for making your own syrup.  Did you know that you can tap trees other than just maple?  You may not get the same taste, but it will still be good.  Some tapping varieties are box elder, walnut, birch, sycamore, poplar and hickory.  However, not all saps are created equal–some may be a tad bitter, some will take more sap to make the same amount you would get from a maple tree and the list goes on. 

     It’s an easy process to tap a tree.  First, it has to be the right time of year.  The best sap flows when temperatures are below freezing at night and warming up to above 40 degrees during the day.  Find a tree that is between 10 and 20 inches in diameter.  Drill a hole about 2 inches into the tree with a drill bit that is the same size as your spiel.  Tap the spiel gently into the tree with a rubber mallet.  Hang your bucket off the spiel and wait for it to fill.  It may take a while.  It probably won’t flow like it did in the Hunger Games—when they drove the spiel into the tree, sap miraculously poured out.  It may take a few days depending on the tree.  Don’t be discouraged that it takes 50 to 60 gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup–it’s worth it.  Once you have a good amount, put it on the stove and boil it down.  If you have endless amounts of energy (like the heat from a wood stove) or someone else pays your gas/electric/propane bill for your kitchen stove, you’re in luck.  I happen to heat with a wood stove and I’m unapologetic about having the opportunity to make syrup when I can–there has to be some pay off to having to shove wood into that metal monster day and night 5 months of the year. 

     Anyway, once you have your syrup–enjoy.  I put it on pretty much everything–wheat bread dough, cereal, ice cream . . . and today, I drizzled it over my pot roast.  No, there is no such thing as too much maple syrup. 

 

Take care, All.

 

We added our Rain Water Collection book to Amazon recently.  You won’t learn how to tap maple trees here, but it will discuss the ins and outs of rainwater collection.

http://www.amazon.com/Preppers-Guide-Rainwater-Harvesting-Threat-ebook/dp/B00HYR3LGM/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1393471248&sr=8-5&keywords=Hillary+Bergeron

Happ-Happ-Happenings on the Homestead in the Coldest of Weather

 

WHAT I’VE BEEN DOING LATELY

 

WHAT I WISH I COULD BE DOING

 

 

Hi friends,

Yes, it’s been a long time and I’ve been absent.  But, in that time, I finished two college courses and I am halfway through another one.  Bob finished his Weapons book and is now working on his water book, which should be great. 

 

We are currently experiencing the coldest winter that we’ve ever had here in Tennessee.  The week before last, freezing air blasted down from the north and chilled us all to the bone.  We had to keep all of our wood stoves going full blast, including the hot tub outside (although it was way too cold to expose our skin to the cold air).  At the same time, we were battling the flu.  So for that week and a half, while trying to keep our pipes from freezing day and night, and trying to keep our animals warm, happy and watered, we were fighting sickness.  Believe me, carrying firewood in while dealing with nausea, coughing, body aches and weakness is no picnic.  It was probably the most miserably inconvenient time to be sick.  But you know how Murphy’s Law works  . . .

 

To take extra precautions for the animals, we insulated the chicken house and pulled tarps over the pen for more protection.  We added extra bedding to the cat cubby where they hang out at nights.  Everyone received extra protein and food at mealtime.  Bear, our big dog, refused to go into a dog house.  We tried everything to lure him into that dog house–putting his favorite food into it so he would have to go in to get it, moving the dog house onto the porch so he could be close to the front door–but nothing worked.  He still refused to go in as if the ghosts from dogs’ past were haunting it.  So, to save him from the weather, we dragged him into the house against his will.  You know how little kids perform the wet-fish maneuver when they don’t want to do something?  Well, that was Bear–all 80 pounds of him, as he flopped down on the ground and laid there in a locked paw position, toenails digging into the ground, making it impossible to move him.  It took every ounce of strength to get him inside.  Once in for the night, he refused to sit and stood next to the door and gave me the stink-eye whenever I walked by.  When we put him back outside, he was pretty perturbed with us for a couple of days–and all this because we were trying to save his life. It seems as though no good deed goes unpunished.

 

We had a week of favorable temperatures, but now the cold weather has returned.  However, it should be easier to deal with this time around.  We’ve recovered from the flu by about 80%, and the freezing weather is only supposed to last a day or two.  So, looks like we’re in for a few more days of hauling wood up to the porch.

 

Take care, All.  

If you haven’t had a chance to look at Bob’s Weapons book, here’s the link:

 

 

 

New Chicks

The newest editions to the homestead. My friend hatched out some eggs and gave me half of them. I’m feeling very lucky today.

Remembering Victory Gardens and World War II while fighting my own War in my back yard.

Did you know that “Victory Gardens” during World War II produced about 40% of the nation’s vegetables?  Gardens were planted in spare lots, local parks, yards-large or small and even rooftops in the cities.  The US War Department felt that if the people planted their own gardens it would lower the price of vegetables needed to feed the troops.  Another factoid from this period of time is that America experienced a food shortage because the forced interment of Japanese-Americans.  About 40% of the vegetables in California were grown by Japanese farmers.  When they were forced to leave their farms, they left about 200,000 acres and the land was transferred to European immigrants or “Oakies” coming into California from the “Dust Bowl.”  Since these newcomers weren’t familiar with the California climate, they couldn’t match the production of the Japanese farmers, thus resulting in a food shortage.

I’ve kept all this in the back of my mind as I’ve tried to ready my ground for my own Victory Garden. I call it my Victory Garden because I need one–I need a victory from being in a slump, from the drain of high food prices, or just for something nice to happen.  But before I can plant, I have to go to war against the waist high weeds in my garden area.  I realize I’m a month late in getting started because of the trip to Alaska.  But instead of letting it go and fighting two years of weed growth next year, I decided to go ahead and put it together anyway.

Every year I come to the garden with high hopes of a great harvest.  Memories of various years come to mind.  One year, I had a bumper crop of tomatoes.  It was beautiful.  Tomatoes everywhere–what more could a gardener want.  Then our friend came by for a visit.  I’m going to call him “Tom” just for the sake of giving him a name.  Anyway, Tom came by and “dumb me” invited him to the back yard to see my bumper crop of tomatoes.  He was impressed and I was very proud.  Then Tom wanted a favor.  He asked me if he could pick a few of my tomatoes.  Since I had plenty and some to spare, I agreed–after all, sharing is a good thing.  I went in the house and about twenty minutes later, here comes Tom with bags and bags of tomatoes.  “Thanks,” he said.  “I’m planning to make some salsa.  I’ll be sure and bring you some.”  I was taken back.  He’d picked EVERY SINGLE TOMATO.  Then he said, “Oh, by the way, I took some of your peppers too.  I left a couple since they were too small to pick.”  A few days later, he came back and handed me a “pint” sized jar of salsa.  It was unbelievable.  Instead of getting to enjoy my harvest, I had a measly little jar of salsa for my efforts.  That was the last time I had a good harvest of tomatoes.  I’m hoping one day I will have another bumper crop–then maybe I can look fondly back on the summer that I had bags and bags of tomatoes instead of thinking of Tom.  I need new memories.

My goals this year include devising a plan to take care of general weed control in the pathways and surrounding the garden without using herbicides.  It seems like if I turn my back for one minute, like errant children, it will take over and waist-high weeds are followed by copperheads.  I would like to spend time weeding my actual vegetable garden instead of the pathways into and around the garden.  So, here’s to a new year, and hopefully new memories and successes.

Take care, All

By the way, our book is up and ready.

Back in Alaska and saying goodbye to my father.

I left a beautiful spring to head to Alaska to experience breakup.  Anyone who’s been in Alaska in the spring time knows and loathes”breakup.”  It’s the time of year when weather vacillates between warm and freezing temperatures.  Snow melts, then freezes, then melts again, turning the yard into a giant mud puddle.  It’s usually this time of year when Alaskans bet on exactly when the Nenana River ice will break.  The contest started in 1906 and is still a big deal around these parts. 

 

However, I’m not here to enjoy the crisp, unpredictable weather.  My father passed away the week before last, so I came to help out and say goodbye.  When I think about the life of my father, I remember him as a lucky man.  He really did live a full life.  He spent a lot of time exploring the Alaskan wilderness, leading a team of pack-horses into the back country, either hunting or taking in a group of Sierra Club members to experience Alaska at its best.  He spent time teaching art at remote native Alaskan villages, as well as in Old-Believer Russian villages.  He would tell us the stories of how he’d have to get permission to enter the Russian villages from the elders who were trying to preserve their culture in an evolving world.  After growing up hearing his stories and seeing the fruits of his life through his painting and carving, I would be hard-pressed to find another individual who’d lived a more exciting life than my father.  It’s my hope that I can enjoy my life as much as he did in his. 

 

Take care, All

P.S.  Our new book on how to build a solar home is on Amazon.  If you haven’t had the chance to check it out, you may want to.  We also included a step-by-step guide on how to build a compost toilet and rainwater collection system. 

Bombing versus the Balm of Gilead

The recent events of the bombing of the Boston Marathon has left me heart-sick.  Every time something of this magnitude happens, I feel a piece of my soul being chipped away and being replaced by an angry, unfeeling heart, intent on revenge.  I was contemplating the events of yesterday and how it brought about an effect that chased away any happiness.  I realized my soul needed healing from the thoughts of helplessness encompassing me.  The Balm of Gilead came to mind, an ancient herb used in healing a variety of ailments as well as is symbolic for the power to soothe and heal.  I needed some kind of strong medicine to combat the pure evil it takes to blow up a child.

 

Since the opposite of evil is decent,good,honest,moral, sinless,upright and virtuous, to combat the evils of society we can do something that would represent these terms.  So, today, if you feel overwhelmed by evils of society, do something decent and good for humanity.  Do one thing that will help relieve human suffering in some way.  This may take the form of donating to a good cause, gathering supplies for a women’s shelter or going to the rest home to visit someone who doesn’t get any visitors, reading them a book perhaps.  Just do something that will help wipe away the evil of the day.  Don’t let them win.  We will never be able to eliminate the evils of society, but we can do something to wipe away the tidal wave of negative feelings and fear they leave in their wake.

 

Take care, All

P.S.  I found out that many comments were being sent to the spam box–so I apologize for not posting your comments.  If your comments have not been returned on my blog, I’m very sorry I didn’t think to look in the spam box before now.

 

50:1 MAPLE SYRUP FUN

Hi Friends,

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been on to update this blog.  In that time, I have put in any spare minute possible working on my Off-Grid Book.  While “Unplugged” is a memoir about my experiences, I’ve been getting a lot of feedback about how there wasn’t any “how-to” information in it.  I took the hint.  Bob and I have been working on “Solar Blessed–Building the Off-Grid Home,” for the past few months.  Since that time, we have put in anywhere from eight hours to sixteen hours a day, with the majority of our time near the sixteen-hour range.  Of course, this isn’t without some pain.  My upper back and arms, after spending hours bent over a computer, are strained to the point that for the past two weeks I have been in pain and had a constant headache.  It’s so bad, I actually had to visit my massage therapist friend.  Might I say, massage therapy is “AWESOME.”  I’m not over all my pain, but for one day, I felt like a normal person again. 

 

Despite all the work on the new book, I was still able to take a few minutes of time and put in some lettuce seed and collect the maple sap from the trees we tapped last month.  We strained out the bugs, leaves and twigs and set it on the wood stove to boil down.  After burning the first batch, we resolved to make sure the second batch came out.  When it got down to a certain point, we set the kitchen timer in fifteen-minute intervals.  After three days, we had the sap boiled down enough to call it syrup.  Wow!!!  It was great!!!  Nothing at the store compares.  Next year, we will start earlier collecting the sap.  Since it boils down from a 50-to-1 ratio, I would like a little more than just a baby food jar.

 

Just a side note, the deer actually pulled one of my buckets off the tree and chewed on it.  

 

Take care, 

 

Hillary

 

 

 

Tapping the maple trees

Tomorrow should be a magical day.  We’ve had 30-degree nights and 50-degree days.  I’m planning to go out and tap the maple trees.  A couple years ago I ordered some spouts from Lehman’s.  I put them away in a drawer where they stayed.  Then last week, my friend called to tell me she’d been tapping her maple trees and had boiled down her maple sap into a syrup and had been enjoying eating it.  I realized, gee, I’ve got spouts sitting in my drawer, doing absolutely nothing.  So, tomorrow will be the day.  She said to use a 7/16 drill.  She also said she was planning to tap some other kinds of trees.  This friend is also the same one who built her own house and builds rock walls without abandon.  If I only had her energy, I might have been sitting on a gold mine of maple syrup by now.  Instead, I may end up with a whole cup, but I’m willing to take chances.   Wish me luck.

Take care, All.